


What They Remember

by Amorinda



Category: Minecraft (Video Game)
Genre: Bittersweet, DreamTeam, Gen, Ghosts, GhostyBoysInc, Heartbreaking, Heartwarming, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Mild Language, SleepyBoysInc - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-18
Updated: 2020-12-18
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:02:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,528
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28145046
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amorinda/pseuds/Amorinda
Summary: "How'd you guys die?"...Phil's shoulders sank as his gaze fell, bringing a hand up to his eyes. It had been such a long time since he felt the desire to cry....Wilbur turned to see a puffy-eyed Tubbo and rather moved George. He gave a bit of a bow, comfortable in the position of a public speaker, though this wasn't the most enjoyable story to tell....A secondary hesitance kept Techno's hand over Wilbur's for a moment longer. What would he even share? He had no real memory of his death. Only the sensation of a comfortable dream turning into an agonizingly lucid nightmare. The warmth of his blanket being lost to the cold permanently permeating his existence.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 55





	What They Remember

**Author's Note:**

> ***FULL DISCLAIMER: THE GHOSTY BOYS INC AU WAS CREATED BY TWITTER USER @WOLFYTHEWITCH PLEASE GO FOLLOW THEM; THEIR ART AND WRITING ARE BOTH POG***
> 
> I'll have the ghosts 'speak' via writing, so for context, any "..." in the ghost's 'dialogue' aren't them actively placing them, but them pausing for a few seconds as they write.

Dream wasn't entirely sure what he had been expecting when they arrived at the old two-story home, but it sure wasn't familiar faces from the past.

He and his two friends, George and Sapnap, had formed a ghost investigation group as a sort of side hobby, usually just doing vlogs of smaller 'believed-to-be-haunted' locations. Dream wanted to prove ghosts existed; George was the skeptic who didn't really buy it but was low-key terrified of the possibility; Sapnap was just tagging along for the hell of it.

George first brought this to Dream's attention. An old house about an hour drive out from the city that two college students were spending the summer at. He'd found it by chance, having stumbled upon one of their stream vods, where the two kids were using a Ouija board to talk to ghosts. With a bit more research, and a friendly email to the one named TommyInnit, he was able to confirm that this place was nearby for them to check out.

But now the trio were seated at a table with the two 16-year-olds and their three ghostly housemates. A family Dream had formerly been friends with. Ones that suddenly vanished from his life twice; once due to moving here from the city, then permanently into silence for the reason he could now see.

"When you stopped uploading, I didn't realize it was... because of this," he finally admitted after the awkward silence lingered just a touch too long.

"You knew them?" Tubbo, the _slightly_ oldest of the two, questioned.

"Techno and I used to fence before they all moved here."

The two younger boys looked to the pink-haired specter who returned their curious looks with a nonchalant shrug.

"They don't really talk about their past much. Well, they don't talk at all. Not audibly. It gets annoying when their lips move but no sound comes out," Tommy said, crossing his arms.

The ghost of Wilbur seemed to snicker at Tommy, greatly amused by the overly-excitable child. It was Tommy's uncle who had most recently claimed ownership of their home, and despite being the youngest of everyone present, he had the greatest presence of them all.

"So how'd it happen?" Sapnap spoke up, "How'd you guys die?"

"Sapnap!" Dream began to scold only to be talked over by the young Innit.

"What an insulting question to ask, you insensitive prick! Ooohhh, I outta kick you all outta my place for disrespectful shit like that-"

The boy was silenced quickly by a raised hand belonging to the oldest; the ghost of a man formerly known as Ph1lza, but now simply Phil. The father of the two younger ghosts sat at each side of him.

His eyes were sorrowful, but his smile gentle and warm as he signed out a request for something to write with. George was forcefully snapped out of his long trance of disbelief by Dream via a gentle punch to his arm. The two shared a look, then he stood and ran out to their van, soon after returning with a large standing whiteboard. It took him only a moment to set up where all could see, and he brought a few black whiteboard markers to the table; he set them down at the center, then recoiled away.

He still couldn't believe he was facing _real-life ghosts_.

Phil 'stood' from his own place at the table, testing to be sure he could lift the marker - which he thankfully could - as he passed through it to reach the board, unnerving George even more than he already was.

" **My memory is a tad foggy still, but bear with me,** " Phil began writing, pausing to look back with a smile. A nod from the four most curious breathers encouraged him to continue, not too worried about George's stiff nervousness. He erased what he wrote, then started again.

" **It was perhaps a decade ago, at the edge of autumn. I was doing the washing up from dinner late - the tele distracted me I think - and I remember being quite tired. Techno and Wil had already gone up to bed, so it was up to me to make sure everything was in order.**

" **But then something started to bother me. It was like... the eggs in the fridge had gone bad. I checked, but the fridge was still the right temp and our eggs were just fine. I shrugged it off at first, but when I returned to the living room to watch just a touch more television, the smell had gotten stronger. Then I finally realized what happened. There was a leak.** "

There was a longer pause this time as he took a moment to gather his thoughts. He then made sure they had all caught up before clearing the board and starting up once more.

" **I remember the pit in my gut. I searched all downstairs for the source of the leak, hoping to find and stop it, but it was strongest at the steps. The twisting grew as I realized my sons must have been exposed to it for some time now. The smell was so dizzying, but I had to get them outside right away. I had no idea how long it had been leaking, after all, and if it was this intense then they would definitely have needed my assistance.**

**"I... struggled up the last few steps. I'd never felt so winded just climbing a flight. I reached the landing. I was just a few steps from Wil's room... but I was so dizzy. I couldn't breathe, and the stench was unbearable.** " His handwriting grew messy, as though his hand were trembling; a sign that his memories were starting to break him. " **I was so close... dragging myself, but then it just... ends. An intense wave of heat suddenly jolted me back into consciousness, only for things to go dark again in an instant.** "

Phil's shoulders sank as his gaze fell, bringing a hand up to his eyes. It had been such a long time since he felt the desire to cry.

"Jesus Christ..." Tommy breathed. He knew they died to a fire; his uncle told him about it when he was given the key. He just didn't expect the story to be so dark. He thought maybe they'd all just been asleep.

Wilbur 'stood' from his seat, approaching his father and setting a hand on his shoulder.

' _Take a break, Dadza. I remember a bit, and I'd like to share what I recall,_ ' he said, beyond the hearing of the living nearby.

' _You sure, son?_ ' Phil asked, the exhaustion of painful memories clear to all present. A confident nod was enough for Phil to pass the marker over, and Wilbur cleared away his adoptive father's writing while the man returned to his place at the table.

" **Truthfully, I never really caught the smell Dad did. I was wide awake like I always was, working on my newest song - Tubbo knows it, he and I jammed to it on his stream last week - with the window open. Sure, it was a bit cold, but it helped me stay awake. The last thing I wanted to do was fall asleep and forget everything running through my mind. I'd done it before and god it was such a waste of good material!**

" **I had just finished recording and testing the beat mixed with the guitar when I heard a loud thud outside my door. I remember pulling my headset down and being confused, since there was just silence. At first I thought it had been animals outside, so I stood up to close the window. I didn't feel tired, so I doubted I needed the cold anymore. Then came this...** "

Wilbur paused, thinking of how to convey what he remembered. He turned to everyone and made this motion with his arms, sliding his right over his left and onwards, hoping at least one would figure it out.

"Fwoosh!!" Tubbo exclaimed after a gasp of realization, and Wilbur silently clapped his hands together and pointed to the lad as if to say ' _Yes, that's it!_ '

" **I heard this sort of 'fwoosh' at my door and saw smoke starting to pour in when I turned,** " he continued after a quick wipe down of the board. " **Naturally, I was startled. I threw my music in the cupboards, hoping they'd survive, then rushed to my door. I tested it and it wasn't too hot, so I thought perhaps the flames weren't too high, but when I opened it...** "

He stopped writing, realizing this was where his memory blurred. An awkward minute of silence passed before he found the words he needed.

" **It was instantaneous. A flood of blazing heat, then pure icy chills. Next thing I knew, the upstairs were char, and we were all like this. Our most precious items miraculously survived, so we carried on just about like always. People came and went; if we didn't like them, we'd create unease to make them leave, but for the most part we were content. At the very least, we had - and still have - each other.** "

There were a few soft sniffles this time, and Wilbur turned to see a puffy-eyed Tubbo and rather moved George. He gave a bit of a bow, comfortable in the position of a public speaker, though this wasn't the most enjoyable story to tell. Maybe if he didn't have his window closed, things would have been different. Maybe he would have noticed, and he could have gotten his twin and father outside before disaster struck.

The younger twin floated back to the table, hesitating at his seat before offering the marker to the elder twin. ' _Do you want to share, Techno? Clay'd probably like to hear your side, too._ '

Techno pulled his tattered old blanket tightly around him, the reluctance clear as his long hair fell over his eyes.

' _You don't have to if it's too much, son,_ ' Phil reassured him with a gentle hand against his back.

"Is Tech okay?" Dream asked, knowing the body language of his former fencing partner well.

Techno looked up to his old friendly rival, a twinge of pain filling his always-exhausted eyes. Clay had grown up so much into the persona now known online as Dream, and he'd created a stronger following in a shorter time than he had before his sudden death.

Phil was in the midst of finding a way to tell them Techno probably doesn't remember much when his son finally reached out, taking the marker from his younger twin. A secondary hesitance kept Techno's hand over Wilbur's for a moment longer. What would he even share? He had no real memory of his death. Only the sensation of a comfortable dream turning into an agonizingly lucid nightmare. The warmth of his blanket being lost to the cold permanently permeating his existence.

His hand slid from Wilbur's, taking the marker with, and he finally brought himself to stand at the whiteboard. He stared for a moment it his brother's bittersweet words before clearing the board again.

" **Burning.** "

The single word sat there, alone, as Techno stared at the ground.

"Yeah, we know that, but what do you remember?" Sapnap asked, earning another angry earful from Tommy.

"Obviously that's all he fuckin' remembers, you dick! Jesus why do you have to be such an asshole, how would you feel if you were a ghost being pestered about your death??"

"Oh my god, would you both just shut up?" Dream snapped, standing to join his former sparring partner at the board. "Tech, it's okay. You don't have to tell us anything if it's difficult."

Techno glanced to Dream, then to his two friends. He erased the board and started again.

" **Your new friends suck.** "

"W-what did I do??" George questioned, getting a ' _snrk_ ' from Tommy.

"You _did_ stare a lot at them. I imagine that'd be rather uncomfortable," Tubbo pointed out, having had the time to calm down from the full context of the family's demise.

Dream gave a bit of a melancholy laugh of his own, turning back to Techno and hesitantly moving his hand to try and comfort him. For a moment, he thought he could feel the ghost's shoulder, and for a moment Techno seemed to feel his hand, but then it was over, and he passed through like anyone would.

"You died in your pajamas; you were already asleep, weren't you?" he asked. Techno replied with a nod. "The gas Philza smelled probably kept you down, then. I'm sorry you all had to go out like that... but you know? It's cool that I got to see you again."

" **That's comforting.** " The sarcasm in Techno's writing was painfully obvious, getting an awkward laugh from Dream and silent laughter from Wilbur.

"Well, I think we've gotten enough evidence of ghosts. Hey NoisyInnit, think we could still come by every now and then? I'd like to see if there's any ghost-detecting equipment that'll let them talk normally to us, but it'll take some time to afford it." Dream asked.

At first, Tommy, was opposed to the idea, but excited puppy eyes from both Tubbo and Wilbur made him groan, "Fine, but only cuz I'm tired of buying sticky notes every week."

"I still can't believe ghosts exist, and you _live_ with them so comfortably," George admitted, eager to gather their things.

"God, George, you're such a wimp," Sapnap said, turning off the camera. The ghosts had shown up as blurs in the lens, but he'd have to see in post if they still came through.

"Anyone wanna write anything before we take the board?" Dream offered, and Wilbur took one of the extra black markers as he excitedly flew to the board.

" **It was wonderful to see you again, Clay! Be sure to visit again soon!** "

" **Maybe without the extras,** " Techno added.

There was only so much of extra company he could handle, and he was still struggling to adjust to Tommy's energy. Tubbo was okay since he was calmer, but since he was usually spending time with Wilbur, he was often stuck babysitting Tommy. It was exhausting.

"I dunno, Tech; we'll see. They are still my friends," Dream told him with a smile, holding out his hand to take the markers from the two specters.

For a moment, he thought he could feel a faint warmth from their hands as they returned the markers. He clung to that feeling as he and his friends finally left, leaving the home for the time being with the intention of returning one day with better equipment.

The somber mood didn't leave for the rest of the day, as now the two boys knew the truth of their ghostly housemates. Neither could fully understand the agony the ghosts had gone through, nor did they attempt to coax Techno from his room.

Sure, the memories of their final moments were painful for Phil and Wilbur to relive, but Techno only knew restlessness from a night-terror he had been forced to endure. And he had foolishly attempted to convey that to a friend he never expected to see again. One he wished he hadn't.

**Author's Note:**

> Wow I'm rusty at writing, why is it so difficult for me to end a story??
> 
> Welp, this is me coming out of a rut of writer's block so I hope it's good! Constructive criticism is greatly appreciated, as I'd love to grow further!
> 
> Thanks to Wolfy for coming up with this au and letting me explore their deaths further!!


End file.
